Rainstorms and Roses
by ImThatTypeOfGirl
Summary: He did not mean to pass through Firenze that day, but someone he finds there makes him want to stay. Long ONE-SHOT with gradual Ezio x OC


**Ughhh, geez, this has been sitting in my folder for like a year, half-finished, so I sat down one afternoon and wrote the rest of it. Took me a long time, and I just wanted to post it to get it the hell away from me. Hope you like, I enjoyed writing it x**

* * *

**ASSASSIN'S CREED:**

**Rainstorms and Roses**

He did not mean to pass through Firenze that day. He had just had a craving for his home town, a snippet of his old life before everything had changed. He missed the smell of the stone, hot in the sun, the feel of familiar ground beneath his feet. The alleyways he used to run, the walls he thought he would never be able to climb. He was supposed to be on a quest, a quest that held the Brotherhood in its palm, and yet…

Here he was, walking into one of Firenze's marketplaces like he had never left.

The sun was warm on his back and the smell of fresh fruit and flowers danced through the air on a mischievous summer breeze. The skies were clear and blue; the trees were in leaf and waved emerald arms toward the heavens. He strode through the marketplace, eyes lingering on familiar faces that would no longer recognise him now. Despite the focus and determination required to be an Assassin, today Ezio was trying to forget who he was now and remember who he used to be.

But he always hit a problem. Even though he was easily able to recall the memories of his younger years, images of his family kept flickering alongside them and making him ache. There were so many things he regretted not stopping, not taking action against. Underneath his all his bravado, Ezio did have a heart - and today it was feeling homesick.

He had been so focused on his own thoughts he did not notice where he was walking until he had collided with a young woman moving towards him. The streets were unusually crowded and she had been unable to squeeze past him and out of the way. Ezio, being ridiculously strong after years of training, merely reeled backwards a little before regaining his balance. The young woman, however, stumbled back and tripped over the hem of her dress, tumbling into the dirt and dropping the basket she carried - as well as spilling its contents across the ground alongside her.

She cursed profusely in Italian, waving her hands toward Ezio who was still trying to bring himself out of his daydream. When he finally did however, he apologised and bent down to help her pick up the bouquets of flowers that had fallen out of the basket. As he moved to collect the broken stems, he caught a glimpse of her face and his usual roguish smile pulled at the corners of his mouth once more.

She was strikingly pretty, but not in the obvious way he would normally go for. She had forest green eyes resting upon high, prominent cheekbones. Her chocolate curls were swept up into a messy bun on her head; several strands had escaped and cascaded down the sides of her face. She had two tiny scars at the right-hand corner of her cherry pink lips; made by a small pen knife, he expected. She caught him staring and snapped angrily at him.

"What do you want, _signore_? You have ruined my produce-" she gestured to the fresh flowers now trodden on and wilting in the dirt path "-and so ruined any chance of a profit for today. Can I help you with anything or may I go now?"

Ezio shook his head apologetically, smile fading. "I am sorry, _signorina_, I did not intend this. My mind was elsewhere."

She sighed, waving away his apology. "It does not matter now. Thank you anyway _signore_, for your help – even if you were the one who caused the problem in the first place."

He laughed, his usual wicked grin returning. Standing up, he helped the young woman to her feet before bowing low and kissing her hand. "Ezio Auditore, at your service."

She nodded, whisking her hand from his and brushing the dust off her dress. She picked up her flower basket and paused for a moment, brow crinkling, before turning to look at him. A small, almost pleased smile danced upon her lips. "I am Flora Fiore. Do you have the time to accompany me home? I can pay you for your troubles."

He tilted his head, grinning. "Why would you need to pay me to walk you home, _signorina_? Is there troubling awaiting your arrival?"

"Perhaps," she answered, moving across the crowded street, Ezio close behind as they turned off into an alleyway and out of the bustle of the marketplace.

"And how do you expect to pay me when your flowers have been ruined?" the Assassin asked as they continued down the path.

"I have saved up some money," Flora said, her loose chocolate locks blowing gently about her face in the breeze. "I am sure it will suffice."

The Assassin hurried to walk beside her; Flora's footsteps were strong and sure and she had a quick pace. They continued their conversation, dark clouds beginning to sweep across the once-clear sky like spilled ink. The wind grew rough and nasty, snapping at their clothes and skin and then dancing away across the rooftops like a fleet footed thief.

"And what kind of trouble are you in,_ signorina_?" Ezio asked as they turned the next corner.

She snorted. "Nothing I am sure you cannot handle."

"Do you owe money?"

"Something along those lines."

"Then why not pay them with the coin you promise me?"

The air grew cold and the wind whisked his words away into the darkening sky. Flora did not respond but pressed on ahead, faster now, her soft green dress fluttering about her ankles like leaves pulling away from the branches. The trees themselves began to moan and sway, the bright summer afternoon quickly becoming sinister.

"Up ahead," Flora told Ezio as they came to the end of the next passage. "My house is just around this bend."

Indeed it was; a beautiful structure with ivy clinging to its sandstone walls and balustrades underneath every window. The lower half had a wooden double door set in the stone served as the entrance way, painted a startling white in contrast to the murky skies above. There were also several burly men loitering about the doorway, looking intimidating. As Flora and Ezio approached they glanced up, the spokesperson moving forward towards the young woman. He had a round face, patterned with scars across the left side right up into his short brown hair. His blue eyes glittered with malice.

"Ah, Miss Fiore," he chuckled, glancing momentarily at Ezio beside her. "I see you bring a friend? That was not part of the deal."

"The deal is _over_, Guiliano," she hissed, stepping forward so they were face-to-face. "I will take your _merda _no longer!"

The four men behind began slowly moving towards the three as their leader raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? And you think _this_ man is going to protect you?" He waved idly at Ezio, who balled up his fists and bit down on his tongue. "A pity. And I thought we could be civil about this."

Before the Assassin could even blink Guiliano had his arm around Flora's neck and was pulling her backwards, pressing hard against her windpipe. Her eyes widened in fear and she struggled to breathe, clawing at the muscular man's arm but to no avail. Ezio sighed and stepped forwards, pointing towards where Flora was being held.

"This is your one and only chance to let her go," he said. The group of men laughed.

"Or what?" they jeered. "What are you going to do?"

Ezio's mouth twitched up into the ghost of a smile. "Kill you. All of you."

Equally as fast as Guiliano his four men rushed forward, the first two down on the ground with Ezio's hidden blades embedded in their throats and the Assassin himself bent down on one knee to force their bodies into the dirt. The third dashed towards him, swinging his sword high. But Ezio was quicker, and had drawn his blade in time for the two to clash, metal against metal in the empty square. Lashing out, the Assassin slit the man's wrist and then knocked the sword from his hand, catching it as it fell and beheading the thug in one swing. He turned to the final one, who looked a little worried by now. Dropping his two blades Ezio merely flicked out his wrist and sent a throwing knife into the man's chest; he crumpled to the ground like one would scrunch parchment.

The Assassin left his swords lying in the dirt and turned to face Guiliano, who was trying valiantly to keep his composure. Flora had fainted – whether it was the pressure on her windpipe or the sight of her protector doing the job she did not know he had – he was not sure. Ezio clicked his tongue and stepped forward, shaking his head at the quivering man before him.

"S-stay back!" Guiliano shouted, his hands now moved to hold Flora's neck. "Or I swear I will k-kill her!"

"No, you will not," sighed the Assassin.

The man dropped Flora's unconscious form and she tumbled onto the ground for a second time that day.

"No, I will not."

Guiliano ran.

The rain began pouring from the stormy sky, turning the streets to mud and making the walls and roofs slick with water. Ezio took off after the thug, his feet sliding in the sludge into which the paths had now turned. The droplets battered down on his clothes and hood, dripping off the pointed nose at the front and spattering across his face. The bulky shape of Guiliano was fast disappearing into the shadows of the rainstorm, and Ezio had to repeatedly wipe the water out of his eyes so that he could see to turn the next corner.

He gritted his teeth in frustration. This chase was getting him nowhere. The thug was quick; he would grant him that. But Ezio was quicker. When Guiliano fled down the nearest alley, Ezio scaled the closest wall, his well-practised fingers find hand-holds on the seemingly smooth stone. Hauling himself up onto the water-slick roof, he sprinted across, only slipping one or twice as his feet moved swiftly across the tile. He tailed the progress of the thug below him, closing the gap between them from above. When the man below him emerged from the side passageways into a wide, empty square, Ezio finally stopped and grinned. Everyone had bolted indoors, hiding from the downpour.

This was going to be easy.

Guiliano stood in the centre of the square, head frantically moving from side to side, eyes shining with fear as he looked for any sign of pursuit. Ezio watched his shoulders slump as he breathed out a sigh of relief, and the Assassin felt the corners of his mouth curve up into a cruel smile. Just as Guiliano began exiting the square, Ezio moved to the edge of the roof and placed his feet halfway over the edge of the slates, rocking slowly back and forward. Then, unsheathing the hidden blade of his right arm, he pushed off from the roof and leapt high into the storm.

Guiliano's body crumpled beneath him, bones shattering on impact, crunching into the ground beneath him. Ezio's blade was plunged deep into the brute's throat, his own hazel eyes staring into the man's pale blue ones as they went wide with shock. The Assassin slackened his hold on Guiliano, sheathing his blade and removing his knees from the thug's stomach. His victim's bones crackled underneath his weight as he shifted to stand, blood spurting out comically from the open wound in his neck.

"Why?" spluttered Guiliano, his hands clawing at the wet earth he lay in. Blood was now soaking into his clothes and oozing from the corners of his mouth.

Ezio, now on his feet again, looked down at the dying man crushed into the dirt. "_Why_?" he repeated.

Guiliano nodded, his life blood pouring out fast into a pool around him.

"I am sure you can figure out that one on your own, _signore_." The Assassin began moving backwards, melting into the downpour.

Guiliano laughed, despite the immense pain he must be feeling. "Flora? You think you k-know who she is, don't you? Got her _all_ f-figured out…"

Ezio frowned. "What do you mean?"

But the thug had dissolved into harsh coughs and rasping intakes of breath. Muttering a prayer under his breath, Ezio disappeared into the shadows of the rain and left the man to his fate. But Guiliano's words troubled him. What exactly did he mean by 'you think you've got her all figured out'? Yes, over time, the Assassin had come to be a very good judge of character and background, but…Flora was not exactly an open book.

When he reached her house, dripping wet and soaked in blood, her body had vanished. He searched the area for a long while, even slipped in through one of the open windows of her house, but she was not inside either. Disappointed and even a little pissed off after all the trouble he had gone through to aid her, Ezio turned and made his way back the marketplace, footsteps heavy in the muddy alleyways. By now the stalls were gone, as well the vendors, and the square was empty. He stood off to the side, remembering how busting with life it had been only a few hours ago. Now it was as dull and grey as the skies above.

Ezio moved into the middle of the square, eyes peering into the gloom, making out the shapes of gnarled trees reaching toward the heavens. Their leaves, once bright and green, sagged with the pressure of the rain and were tainted darker by the shadows of the clouds overhead. As the Assassin trudged toward the shelter of the building opposite, his foot caught on something in the mud. He bent to pick it up, and his hand grasped the slender stem of a flower. As he brought it up to his face and wiped the dirt from its petals, he found it was a rose. It was a dark red one, its bloom now slightly crushed and torn - but intact. It must have fallen from Flora's basket this morning and they had failed to notice when collecting the others.

Sighing, he dropped the rose and it landed in the sludge at his feet with a small splat. At this precise moment, he caught sight of someone in a passage leading out of the square. A very _particular _someone, with a pale green dress that was damp with rain. Her gaze met his for the fleetest of moments, her eyes widening with surprise before she turned away and vanished into the alley.

"Oh no you _do not_," he muttered, taking off after her. The rose was squashed further into the mud under his foot as he shifted into a sprint, and left behind in the empty marketplace as Ezio followed Flora into the side streets of Firenze.

For the second time that day, he began a pursuit in the pounding rain.

By the time he had caught up with her she was heading toward a dilapidated building; the windows were boarded up with rough cuts of wood and the door was hanging on one hinge at a very precarious angle. He vaulted after her, catching her around the waist as he lunged and they both crashed through doors, rolling in a heap across the door and banging against the far wall. Immediately Flora pushed away from him, gagging on the dust they had disturbed.

"_Idiota_!" she hissed, stumbling to her feet. Ezio followed, eyes finally adjusting to the gloom. And as they did, he could make out several darker shapes by the door, and another in the doorway through which they had entered. They were not alone.

A flame flickered into life, lighting the stone walls in a pale yellow glow and illuminating the faces of the people whom he now shared the space with. Two heavily muscled men stood guard either side of the door, backs pressed hard against the wall. At the threshold, however, stood a black-haired man leaning on a gilded silver cane. He wore a posh white buttoned-down shirt and dark trousers. Over the top he had a deep blue coat that stretched nearly to his ankles.

"Ezio Auditore," the man smirked, stepping into the light. He had very sharp features; a wide forehead and prominent cheekbones sticking out from sunken cheeks. His smile held no warmth.

"Who are you?" growled the Assassin in reply, eyes glancing momentarily at the men at the door. The black-haired man noticed.

"Oh, do not mind them," he said, waving toward his bodyguards idly. "It is the seventeen _outside_ you want to worry about. That is, if you get out of here alive."

"Again, _signore_, your name," snarled Ezio. If he was being honest, this man unnerved him greatly. But he would be damned if he let him know it.

"My name is not important," he said. "Perhaps you will take _this_ as an answer to your question."

From his pocket he removed a crimson red cross, backed in gold and strung from a long chain. It flashed in the shadows, created by the lone candle held by one of the guards. Ezio tried not to look surprised.

"A Templar," he sighed, feigning boredom. "I should have guessed."

"Yes, you _should _have," the Templar laughed. "And so, down to business."

But before they could begin, Flora interrupted. Ezio had quite forgotten she was there.

"My payment?" she asked the Templar man. Ezio frowned. Her voice…it sounded strange. Or was he just imagining things? The Templar nodded, grinning, and held out a small coin purse, which she snatched from his fingers as she swept out of the house without looking back.

"Quite the little actress, is she not?" he laughed, and the Assassin felt like he could kick himself. How had he not seen this? How could he have been so _stupid_? She worked for the Templars! That little scene at her house was to test his conviction. He yanked down his hood and raked a hand through his hair, exhaling.

"Indeed," he replied. "What is it you want, _signore_?"

"Me, personally?" he feigned surprise. "Money, power, a different beautiful woman in my bed every night. But I do not think that is want you meant. My superiors desire your demise, Ezio. I thought you would know such things already."

The Templar chuckled and the Assassin gritted his teeth. He was beginning to lose his patience with this man, and only hoped what he had said about the men awaiting his command outside was not true. The two body guards by the door stiffened, the muscles in their arms rippling in anticipation for the fight that soon about to ensue.

"And so, I shall leave you," the Templar smirked, turning to leave. "I am sure these men will prove suitable company for you, _signore_?"

Ezio took a step forward as the Templar made to leave, and the body guards did as well. The dark-haired man disappeared out of the house and into the rain. Cursing under his breath, the Assassin turned to the men before him. They advanced, cautiously. They had obviously been informed of his skills. Ezio took a couple of steps back, the guard holding the candle letting it slip from his fingers and clatter to the ground.

The light went out.

Both men lunged for him but Ezio was fast; he dropped to the ground and rolled between them, leaving them fumbling in the dark for the brunette who was no longer there. The Assassin was hit by the suddenly warm, wet air of the late evening, raindrops splattering against his exposed face. Immediately shouts rose up behind him; the Templar was not lying. Ezio did not turn to see exactly how many men he was to face, but the noise they made was even for him to presume the number. But _seventeen_? He dearly hoped not.

He took off into the rain again, ghosting through alleys and vaulting over walls. But the men on his tail quickened their pace, and soon he was going to have to climb. As soon as he hit his first dead end he leapt for the lowest window ledge he could reach. Scrambling up the frame of the alcove he hauled himself up to grasp the ledge above his head, and then the roof above that. Staggering to his feet, he spotted multiple guards posted about the rooftops – yes, even in this weather – and heaved a sigh. Honestly, if he had known he would run into _this_ much trouble returning to his hometown he never would have come back at all.

Crouched low he scuttled across the tiles, shiny with water. The first three guards fell backward from the roof with two daggers in each torso. The next two, despite the fact they were now alerted to the danger they were in, did not have enough time to react before Ezio's hidden blades were buried in their chests. The Assassin, regaining his footing, stretched and sheathed his weapons, scanning the surrounding area for more adversaries. Seeing none, he hoped that the 'seventeen' in pursuit had given up the chase.

Oh, how he was wrong.

By the time he had crossed half the city by rooftop and dropped down into a shadowed alley to continue on foot, the guards that had indeed been tailing him had caught up. Eyes adjusting to the gloom, the Assassin was not quick enough to evade a kick to his stomach that came from somewhere in the darkness. He stumbled back, wheezing slightly, and fell into a swift roll to evade his attacker. But there was more than one. Seventeen, to be precise.

The first sword through his shoulder stung like a bitch and he swore under his breath. He could not handle this many in such a tight space; the alley passage itself was barely three men wide. Finally adjusting to the dark, Ezio drew his own sword and so began a very long, very painful fight. Despite the fact there were only seventeen men it felt like a lot more. Bleeding heavily from the deep wound in his left shoulder and a massive gash down on side of his stomach, the Assassin struggled to finish the last few. One man advanced, swinging a hammer down to clash with Ezio's blade. Thrusting the guard's arm back with his own he used his left hand to stab him repeatedly in the chest until he fell to the ground. By this time another had come up behind him and landed a blow to his lower back. He stumbled forwards into the waiting sword of yet another guard.

Corpses littered the passage and it was difficult to sidestep them in the shadows. Ezio and his final two opponents circled around each other in the close space, weapons drawn, breathing laboured. The Assassin struck first, catching the first man off guard and making him fall backward over a body of one of his recently deceased comrades. While he was down Ezio seized the opportunity and ended him swiftly. But he had forgotten about the last guard, who launched into him at quite a speed and sent them both rolling out of the alley and into a side street, crashing to a halt against an old, gnarled tree.

Ezio's back connected with the base, while the guard used him like a cushion and did not take any of the impact. He scrambled to his feet, cursing at the Assassin and grinning in victory. But Ezio was not finished yet. Ignoring the sharp pain of his wounds and the ache in his back, he jerked out a leg and it landed perfectly in the curve of the guard's knees, knocking him onto the ground. Before the guard could even get his breath back, the Assassin had slit his throat and sat back on his heels to watch as the blood oozed from the gaping cut and drenched his uniform in red.

Ezio had not quite realised how severe his injuries actually were. When he finally made it to his feet he had to bite back a groan of pain, limping through the side street clutching his damaged shoulder. The rain began easing off until it was more like a fine mist falling through the air, dampening Ezio's already wet robes, but not enough to wash out the blood blossoming there. Suddenly he was very aware of just how heavy his armour was.

He turned into the nearest alleyway just as his vision began to blur, just as the pain got too much to bear. One hand going to the slash down his side, he used the other to brace himself against the wall. Head bowed, breathing heavy, Ezio struggled to keep his eyes open. With a jolt he fell forward, knees bending under the weight of his own body, forehead smacking off of the stone in front of him. He collapsed on the ground, only able to watch as the blackness bled across his vision like water. With a moan of pain, he let himself drown.

"He is waking up! _Madre_! He is awake!"

Ezio winced as the child's high-pitched, whining voice sliced through his conscious. His whole body was in agony, so much so it actually hurt just to open his eyes. He struggled to sit up, taking in the room about him as he blinked himself awake. It was large and rectangular with a four-poster bed against the far wall and a massive dresser to the right. The carpet was a blur of colour and the walls were hung with valuable artwork. Actually, the whole room looked sort of familiar…

He scanned the area for the child he had heard but there was no-one in sight. The door was closed and any light from windows was blocked out by heavy wooden shutters. Glancing down he noticed that he was lying on a suede couch under a warm woollen blanket, in a lightweight white shirt and grey trousers. Under the clothes, however, was a thick layer of padded cloth serving as bandage around his wounded side and shoulder. He could make out several other, less serious wounds across his torso and upper legs and quite a few cuts on his face. Wincing, he ran a hand over the quickly scarring injuries and sighed.

"Ezio Auditore_,"_ a woman's voice sounded from the doorway. Ezio looked up – and had to do a double-take. The last person he expected to rescue him from that alley was, in fact, staring right at him with her startling green eyes.

Flora Fiore leant against the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling slightly. "Long time no see."

The Assassin cursed under his breath and tried to sit up, but his shoulder screamed in protest and he had to settle for a sort of reclining lounge. This was why he recognised the house. Resting a hand on his injured side, he took in her bedraggled appearance; hair coming loose from its already messy bun, emerald dress torn slightly at the hem, small spots of dirt smudged along the line of her collar bone. Had that been from when he had collided with her in the abandoned house? And with that thought, everything flooded back to him, heavy and vibrant and real. _Very_ real.

"You work for the Templars." It was a statement, not a question.

Flora tilted her head, confused. "What?"

"I said," growled Ezio, losing patience. "That you work for the Templars , do you not?"

She looked horrified. "Is_ that_ what you think?"

"Do not play dumb, _signorina_," snarled Ezio. "I am not an _idiota_!"

She strode swiftly across the room to where he lay on the couch and bent down so that they were eye-level. They were so close he could see the beads of sweat on her forehead and smell the soft scent of her skin. He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, noticing the rage burning in her eyes. When she spoke her voice was hard with restrained anger.

"Listen, Ezio," she snapped. "I do not work for the Templars. I do not work for anyone. Do you hear me, _signore_? Do you?"

"Then why were you taking orders from them?" the Assassin hissed, his shoulder beginning to burn with the pain.

She looked confused. "What?"

"I chased after you yesterday, and you were being paid to lead me to a dark-haired Templar man. The one who did this." He gestured to his bandages.

Flora shook her head. "You must be mistaken. After you dealt with those men outside my house, you vanished after Guiliano and when evening began to fall I went out looking for you, but you did not come back. My little Rosabella found you in an alley not too far from here, and told me where you were."

Ezio frowned. "You are telling the truth?"

She nodded. "Yes."

And suddenly it hit him. Thinking back to the confrontation in the abandoned house, just as 'Flora' was asking for her payment, he tried hard to remember the sound of her voice. He _knew_ there had been something different about it! In the stormy shadows of the street she looked near-identical to the woman before him, and even when she had been standing in the gloom cast by the candlelight. The Templars had tricked him into a trap, for which a Flora look-a-like had been the bait. This meant that they knew who she was…and had seen what had happened at the marketplace. She was in danger, just by mere association. As soon as Ezio realised this he struggled to get to his feet. He needed to get out of here, especially if she had children –

That stopped him. She had children; it was confirmed by the child's words that had woken him and whom she had spoken of as 'my little Rosabella'. Was she married? Was there someone here to protect her?

"_Signorina_," he asked, managing to get into a comfortable sitting position. She settled beside him, looking concerned. "You are married, yes?"

The light in her eyes died. "No, Ezio. I am not."

"But you have children, _si_?"

"Yes. My husband is dead," she said, sighing. "Why is it that you ask?"

Ezio ran a hand through his hair. "I am sorry, Flora. I should go now."

"What?" she gasped. "But you are not able! Your wounds have not yet healed! I think perhaps you should – "

"Stay?" he finished for her. "I think not, _signorina_. Or else the same fate may await you, and I could not live with myself if I were the cause."

There was a moment's silence, before Flora's voice cut through the air.

"You are an Assassin, are you not?"

Her question caught him off guard. "_Si*._ How did you know?"

"For one –" she turned and pointed to where his armour lay stacked in the back corner " – no _ordinaria_ man carries that amount of armour and weaponry, not even a cautious one. The second: Your skills, Ezio. When you defended me yesterday? Only someone trained from a very young age could have pulled that off."

He titled his head, smiling. "You seem to know a lot about my profession, _signorina._ Is there something you are not telling me?"

She hesitated a moment, as if contemplating lying to him, but thought better of it and nodded. "Indeed. My husband was an Assassin, Ezio. He told me everything about himself, and the training he went through." She ducked her head slightly. "Before he died."

Of all of the things she could have said, he had not expected this at all. "I offer my condolences, _signorina_. What you have told me just now has explained a lot. Perhaps I knew your husband? What was his name?"

"Maurizio," she answered, smiling faintly. "He was a good man."

"Indeed," agreed Ezio, as the image of a fair-haired, strong jawed young man flashed across his memory. They had only met once or twice but the impression he left had certainly stuck in Ezio's mind. He was sure he had heard Flora's name mentioned in their conversations now he was thinking about it, but she had only been spoken of in passing and the discussion had moved swiftly on. However, he did not know that he had been killed.

"He spoke fondly of you," Ezio said, smiling back at her. "He loved you very much."

Flora blushed. "I am glad you got the opportunity to meet him. He had been away for a long while before I began to get worried. He was never gone for too long; he knew he had his family awaiting his return home. So when I finally got the letter telling me what had happened, I did not know what to – "

"_Madre_!"

The door to their room burst open and a little girl ran in, soft blonde curls bouncing on the straps of a pale yellow dress. She rushed over to Flora, giggles escaping her lips, and threw her arms around her mother. Ezio, recovering from the slight shock, laughed as the girl tugged at Flora's skirts. Her mother, sighing and rolling her eyes, lifted her onto her knee and kissed the top of her head. Flora's eyes met his and she reddened again.

"Ezio, this is my daughter, Rosabella," she introduced him; shaking off the gloomy veil their previous conversation had cast upon them. "Rosabella, this is Ezio Auditore. Say hello, darling. Come now."

The child looked very shy indeed, and so Ezio made the first move. Very slowly, he held out his hand, palm upwards, and smiled.

"Your hand, _signorina_?" he said, and at her mother's prompt Rosabella uncertainly stretched out her fingers until they grazed the skin of his palm. Smiling still, he gently closed his hand around her own and raised it until his lips brushed her knuckles. Releasing it, the little girl giggled happily and waved.

"_Saluti, signore _Ezio," Rosabella whispered.

"_Saluti, signorina_ Rosabella," he waved back. Catching Flora's eye, he glimpsed a hint of gratitude flash across their forest-green depths before they returned to her daughter's face.

"Go on now, _il mio piccolo fiore_," she murmured, and Rosabella slid off of her mother's knee. "Go play with Saverio, darling."

"_Si, madre_!"

They both watched as she ran off barefoot across the room, butter-yellow dress billowing about her ankles, before disappearing out the door and closing it behind her. Ezio then turned his attention back to Flora, who was looking decidedly more relaxed.

"Saverio?" asked the Assassin, and the brunette looked up to meet his amused gaze.

"Ah, _si_, my son," she answered, a little distractedly. "He is seven, and Rosabella is five. She was born only year before Maurizio died. She does not even remember him; she was far too young to even realise who he was. Saverio, however... Saverio remembers, but does not understand." She sighed and tucked a lock of loose hair behind her ear. "My little boy is so alike Maurizio, in his speech, his actions. He even has his brown eyes."

There was a pause, in which Ezio glanced about the bedroom she had lent him. His eyes found the expensive artwork, the exquisite rugs, the silk bedcovers…and then the flower vase beside the dresser to his right. Blood red roses blossomed in the shadows, very slightly wilting, their petals curling over the wide, white rim of their container. In his mind he recalled the ragged rose they had missed in the marketplace, spattered with mud and torn at the edges, getting battered by that insane rainstorm.

Something did not add up.

"Flora?" he asked, turning to face her. His side gave a sharp twinge but he ignored it as her eyes met his own. She nodded for him to continue. "This is _your _house, _si_?"

She raised an eyebrow. "_Si_, Ezio, this is my house."

"I was just wondering what you were doing selling flowers at the marketplace, if you were able to afford a house as grand as this one."

She laughed. "You see everything, do you not, _assassino_? No, this is not _quite_ my house."

"I do not follow." Ezio frowned.

Flora leant back onto the couch and sighed. "There is a very wealthy, _elderly_, man who lives next door. This is an extension of his own house. When Maurizio was killed, I had no money to pay for the upkeep of my original residence, and I had to live on the streets for a while with Rosabella and Saverio. But after only a couple of weeks my luck turned, you see. The old man, Calogero Adelardi, found my son and daughter sheltering near the marketplace where I was selling my flowers. When he was directed to me he told me that he had a place for me and my children to stay, if we so desired. Of course I accepted his offer, and we have been here ever since."

Ezio nodded. "I see. And what of those men who had been waiting outside your house? I am guessing they were the ones who did that to you?"

He motioned to the two tiny scars at the corner of her mouth, that he had noticed when they had first met. The tips of her fingers found the puckered skin beside her lips and she nodded slowly.

"What did they want?" Ezio pressed. "You mentioned some kind of deal."

Flora winced, dropping her hand from her face. "Ah, yes. Guiliano and his gang showed up a few months ago, and told me that they planned to kill Calogero. If I brought them forty thousand florins at the end of two months, they would reconsider their decision. But I knew I would never manage to come up with amount of florins in just two months. I was also not to alert the authorities – as if they would have done anything about it anyway – and above all else, Calogero was not to find out. If he did, they would kill my little Rosabella and then Saverio. When they had finished with them, they said, they would kill Calogero anyway and then come for me."

She smiled, very softly. "I am most grateful you showed up when you did, Ezio Auditore. You saved Calogero, myself, and you saved the lives of my children also, and for that I can never thank you enough."

"No thanks is needed," he murmured, his hand wrapping around her own. "You saved mine too, _si_? We are even."

Her eyes flickered to his bandages, just visible in the V-neck of his shirt. "Agreed," she smiled, squeezing his hand in return.

Suddenly they were both very aware of the shadows of the room, and the warmth held within them. The shutters had been closed in a vain attempt to block out the light, which still managed to seep in under the door and through slits in the wooden boards across the windows. Ezio kept his eyes locked on Flora face, while hers searched for some invisible thing between them on the couch. Despite the aching pain it caused him to lift his arm, he did so anyway, and traced a finger along the curve of her jaw. When he reached her chin he gently pulled her gaze upward to meet his own and dropped his hand.

"You are very pretty when you smile," he said, grinning mischievously. But to his surprise, she did not take the bait and merely nodded. He leaned forward, very slowly, until their noses were nearly touching.

"So I have been told," Flora answered him, her breath warm on his lips, her eyes sparkling with mirth. They stayed very still for a moment, just content being this close to one another. But when Ezio tried to close the gap, Flora ducked her head and coughed. Scrambling from the couch and to her feet, she moved to open the shutters. His hand on her arm stopped her.

"I really should go now, Flora." His tone suggested she should not argue. She did anyway.

"And I think you should not," she sighed, her hands resting either side of the wooden slats. "You have not recovered enough yet, and could injure yourself further if you push yourself too quickly."

The Assassin exhaled and ran a hand through his air. "You are a stubborn woman, Flora Fiore." The roguish smile was very suddenly back. "Maurizio was lucky to have you."

She flushed scarlet and quickly threw open the shutters, morning sunlight spilling into the room and momentarily blinding Ezio. By the time his vision had cleared, Flora had crossed the room and was resting her hand on the now-opened door. His eyes followed the curves of her body, down to where her emerald skirts brushed the floor. She cleared her throat and his gaze leapt back to her face.

"Two weeks," she announced. "That is how long your wounds will take to close over – but only if you _rest_."

"You are well-informed on your healing skills also," Ezio said, settling back down onto the couch.

She raised an eyebrow. "Maurizio was a good teacher," she replied, before turning and shutting the door behind her.

The weeks passed quickly. Flora's methods were indeed very good and Ezio was back on his feet again after eleven days. Despite he was definitely well enough to leave now, Flora insisted he had not yet recovered fully and should stay the other three days. Her children took a great liking to him and he would often tell them stories of his adventures across Italy, which had them wide-eyed and open-mouthed with wonder. Once he caught Flora watching him as he did so, but carried on regardless. Out of the corner of his eyes he thought he saw her smile.

When the second week's end finally rolled around Ezio made his way back up to the room that had been lent to him to collect his things. His original shirt had been slashed to shreds and so he was going to have to wear Maurizio's old one, which Flora insisted was fine. Pulling off the one he had been wearing that day, he moved over to the wall-hanging mirror by the wooden dresser and checked the healing wounds. The sword that had been driven through his left shoulder had left a small scar either side, one on his front and one on his back, and the large gash down his stomach had healed miraculously. There was a dark pink line of puckered flesh that ran across his abdominal muscles. In fact, it was not nearly as bad as he had expected it to look.

He turned away from the mirror and over to the bed, where Flora had laid out another of Maurizio's old shirts for him to wear. She said that she had taken most of their possessions with them when they had left their house, and quite a few had managed to find their way here. Thankful, Ezio grasped the shirt and pulled it over his head, then moved to the corner of the room where his armour and weapons had been stacked. He wrestled with his armour for a while, the straps and buckles getting twisted and snagged on his now-clean robes. Then he began adding his weapons; the gauntlets with both hidden blades, the sword in its sheath on his right hip, his throwing knives hooked into his belt. With a sigh of relief he yanked up his hood and turned to exit the room.

Flora stood in the doorway; hand on hips, eyes glittering with tears.

"Flora, what is the matter?" he asked, sweeping over to rest a hand on her shoulder. She bowed her head and watched the floor.

"Saverio is missing," she whispered. "I asked Rosabella where he had gone, and she said a dark-haired man had seized him at the marketplace and taken him away."

Ezio's eyes closed briefly. He knew he should not have stayed.

"I think I know who took your son, Flora."

Her head snapped up, eyes wet with tears but now sparkling with hope. "You do? You must get him back, Ezio! He means everything to me! I swear to you, whatever you want, you will have it, but I need my little boy…"

She dissolved into tears, fists pressed against her face in attempt to hide them. Ezio sighed and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to his chest and running his fingers through her hair. Whispering soothing words into her chocolate curls, he softly kissed the top of her head. After a moment he could feel her gasping for breath, choking on her own tears. Grasping her gently by the shoulders, he held her back from him and moved her hands away from her face.

"I do not need anything from you, _signorina_," he murmured. "You have done enough for me already. I will get you your son back, Flora. Do not worry. "

She smiled and wiped her eyes. "I will try. Thank you, Ezio."

Without another word, the Assassin turned on his heel and dashed over to the window. Launching himself forward, he grabbed the frame with both hands and swung out feet-first. The air rushed past him like a storm, catching on his robes and sending them out like red and white wings either side of his shoulders. Throwing out his arm, his fingers snagged on piece of rock jutting from the side of the house and he swung round into the wall. His chest crashed into the stone, winding him slightly, and then he allowed himself to drop the last few feet to the alley below. Steadying himself on his landing, he glanced up to the window he had just dropped from. Flora's astonished face peeked out through frame, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open. He had, after all, just dropped three stories. Smirking, Ezio got to his feet and disappeared from her view.

The marketplace was hot and bustling with life. It was a burning day; you could smell the heat in the air, feel it underfoot. Ezio pushed into the square, scanning the area for Saverio. Hissing in annoyance, the Assassin switched to using his Eagle Vision. This way, it was easier, and much faster. While the world suddenly became a mix of soft greys and whites, other colours began to blur into the shadowy mess. He spotted a guard, now turned dazzling red, standing at the far side of the marketplace. Three more moved past him on the right. But what he was looking for was the golden footprints in the dust; child footprints. And next to them, there were dark scarlet ones, following suit.

The Assassin took of through the crowd, pushing past the mess of people until he reached the opposite side of the marketplace. The shining yellow prints were unsure now, slightly lagging behind the red pair that had caught up. They turned the corner, and Ezio followed them down a few more alleys and side passages until he came to a very familiar-looking dilapidated house with a recently broken down door…

"_Merda_," the Assassin muttered under his breath. They were playing with him, cat and string, and Saverio had been the bait. If only he had left when he had meant to! But Flora had persisted, and he had wanted to make sure she was okay as well as himself. Huh, look how that turned out.

Rolling his shoulders, he moved towards the house, the sunlight warm on his back. As soon as he got closer, he could see Saverio at the far wall with the dark-haired Templar man standing behind him. Ezio was right; it was the man who had ambushed him. He glimpsed the flash of a blade in the shadows, and bit his lip. Was Saverio alright? What if he was too late?

Before entering the building, Ezio jogged around the perimeter, making sure the Templar had not concealed any guards like he had done the last time. Peeking under low-strung canopies and scaling the closest buildings, he returned to the entrance of the ruined house. Satisfied there were no hidden threats, the Assassin devised a plan. It did not take him long; over time he had got very quick at thinking fast in tricky situations. But this one needed a little more time than the others. He was not just gambling with his own life here, he had Saverio to think about. He must not provoke the Templar; else he might kill the boy on the spot. On the other hand, Flora's son was the only thing the Templar had to barter with. He was not going to kill him straight away.

Ezio moved through the entrance of the house, his feet crunching on pieces of shattered wood. The Templar man looked up when he entered; there was a manic look in his eyes. Immediately Ezio knew something was off; the position of the man's body, the shake in his hands, the trembling of his lips, indicated he was tight with restrained excitement and anger. This was not the calm and controlled man he had met before. Trying to keep his stony façade up a little longer, despite the frightened noises Saverio made as soon as he saw him, Ezio invited the Templar to initiate the conversation by way of silence. The man was only too happy to oblige.

"You came," he sneered, dragging Saverio closer to his body. Ezio glimpsed the knife again; just a flash of silver in the gloom, tight up at the boy's throat. "But it is not you that I am looking for, Ezio Auditore."

The Assassin stopped in the centre of the room, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"That pretty little flower you keep company with?" he chuckled darkly.

Instantly Ezio was defensive. "Flora? What do you want with her? She has done nothing to you!"

The Templar tutted. "Not quite true, _assassino_. But I would not worry about her for much longer, it is yourself you should be concerned for."

Ezio bit back the anger that threatened to accompany his words. "And why is that, _signore_? You have no guards, no one here to protect you. I could kill you and there would be no one to see."

"But you would not," the Templar said, grinning maliciously. He drew the knife tighter up against Saverio's throat, and the little boy squawked in terror. When Ezio took a step forward to see if he was alright, the Templar shook his head.

"Take another step," he spat, "and the boy breathes his last."

Ezio stepped back, grinding his teeth together in frustration. "I do not follow, _signore_. Why do you want Flora Fiore? What could she possibly have done to you?"

The look in his eyes told Ezio he had asked the right question; the Templar was just dying to tell his side of the story. "My name is Duilio Carbone," he said, a slightly humorous tone lilting his voice. "And my brother was Pietro Carbone. We were Templars from birth, you see. We were desperate to grow up and follow in our father's footsteps, and become feared and respected. So when we finally began climbing the ranks of the association we were thrilled. But the Assassins ended that, Ezio."

Duilio stared at him for a long while, menace glittering in his eyes. Ezio was trying to work out where he was going with this, while keeping an eye on Saverio and listening to the Templar's story. Just as the heavy silence was becoming unbearable, so unbearable Ezio was about to break it, the Templar continued. But this time his voice was shaking just the tiniest bit.

"My brother was killed by an Assassin," Duilio hissed. "And I would not settle for my brother's life to end that way. So I found out who killed him. And you know who it was Ezio? Come now, you must be able to guess."

And Ezio's heart thudded hard in his chest when he realised that this whole thing had been staring him straight in the face the entire time. Looking at Duilio, Ezio could just tell he was itching for the answer, to let him continue his tale. But what would happen when they came to the end of it? What would happen to Flora and her children? Would he be able to stop the inevitable course of the Templar's plan?

"Guess, Ezio," the Templar practically pleaded. "You know who it is."

"Maurizio Fiore," Ezio said, his voice hard. "Flora's husband."

"Yes!" Duilio laughed harshly. "And you know what I did to him when I found him? What I did to him for killing my brother? I strung him up in the tree by my brother's grave and I - "

"Then why go after Flora?" snapped Ezio, cutting off the Templar mid-speech. He did not want to hear any more. "You have your revenge, and destroyed a family in the process. What more could you possibly want?"

"You are not very imaginative, Ezio," Duilio grinned. "I wanted to make him pay for what he did to _my _family."

"Then why not kill her before?" the Assassin was shouting now, enraged at what Duilio had done. "Why wait? You must have known about her all this time! Why drag this out?"

"I needed the perfect situation and timing, _assassino_," he answered. "I did not wait this long for nothing."

Ezio stopped, his voice dropping an octave. "What have you done? What have you done with Flora?"

"Nothing," Duilio feigned innocence. "Not _yet_, anyway. But oh, how she will be heartbroken to find out that the amazing Ezio Auditore could not save her precious son, and then fell tragically to his death after being pursued by guards from the rooftops near her home. And oh, how she will not have the will to go on after the armed men burst into her home and slaughter her daughter and then come for her. How she will plead that her Maurizio was there to save her. "

Ezio's eyes dropped to Saverio's frightened face. "You would not kill a child, Duilio. You do not want that kind of blood on yours hands."

"A boy grows to be a man," Duilio replied curtly. "And a man can grow to be an Assassin."

"And Rosabella?" Ezio fumed. "You would kill her too? She is a little girl!"

"A guarantee," the Templar shrugged. "A guarantee that Flora will not fight back when my men take her life."

Struggling to keep his voice under control, Ezio desperately tried to keep the Templar talking. He needed a new plan; his old one was falling to pieces right in front of him. If Duilio was to kill Saverio anyway, Ezio needed to stall him before he had the chance to strike.

"So why try to kill _me_?" the Assassin asked. "What purpose did _I_ serve in your little game?"

"You were…interesting," Duilio said. "Unexpected, but interesting. At first I merely wished to get you out of the way so I could contiue with my plan. Being a Templar, I knew how to play the game and you were so used to the rules. But then you took out so many of my men...I had to wait. You messed things up a bit, but when Flora healed your injures and I saw the way you looked at one another..." he smirked. "I couldn't resist the chance at ripping another one she loved out of her life before I ended it."

"I do not understand," growled Ezio. "Why torture Flora in this way? You got your revenge for your brother from Maurizio's death. What have you to gain from Flora's?

"A little fun," Duilio grinned. "That is what this all comes down to, is it not?"

The rage that had been bubbling up inside him became too much to control and Ezio lunged forward, shoving Saverio to the floor and colliding with the Templar. He felt the pain in his forearm before he saw the knife sticking out of it, and cursed as Duilio brought his knee up into his stomach. Winded slightly, Ezio pulled the blade from his arm and lashed out at the dark-haired Templar, catching him unawares across the face. Hissing with the pain of the gash, Duilio drew his sword to defend himself.

Ezio drew his own blade and the two clattered off of one another, the rasp of metal on metal echoing around the ruined house. The brunette looked to his left; Saverio had vanished into the streets. Good, the boy just had to keep running. But if he went home where Duilio's guards awaited the Fiores…

The Templar's sword crashed against his own, forcing him backwards into the middle of the room. Ezio blocked with his right hand and unsheathed the hidden blade of his left, defending his position against Duilio's ferocious swings. Breathing hard, he steadied the Templar's sword with his own and forced him slowly backwards again until he was pressed up against the far wall.

"Scared to die, Ezio Auditore?" hissed Duilio, managing to still appear self-assured despite the fact he was struggling greatly against the weight of the Assassin's weapon.

Ezio shook his head and raised his left arm. "Are you?"

His hidden blade pierced straight through Duilio's neck, and a large spatter of blood sprayed across Ezio's face as the Templar slumped to the ground. Picking up the dead man's sword, Ezio turned to leave the building but something glittering on the floor caught his attention. A silver necklace had slipped from Duilio's pocket and into the blood pooling fast around his corpse. Ezio walked over to where it lay amidst the crimson liquid, and picked it up with gentle fingers. A small circle of silver served as a pendant and there was a tiny inscription on the back: _To my darling Maurizio: always return home, safe and sound. F. _

The Assassin placed it carefully in his pocket and swept out of the building. He had to find Flora. He had to make sure she was safe.

As soon as he returned to her house he spotted the commotion inside; raised voices, crashes and bangs against the walls, broken wood littering the doorstep. The front door hung open, and immediately the Assassin entered with swords at the ready. Two guards spotted him instantly and came charging down the stairs from the floor above, blades raised to strike him. Ducking under the rapier of the first, Ezio gouged open his stomach and then slit the throat of the next. Ascending the stairs he found the door to Flora's room closed shut, and a man posted outside. Unless Rosabella was in her and Saverio's room downstairs, which he doubted greatly, then Flora and her daughter must be in the master bedroom. Only one way to find out.

Using the sword in his left he held the man guarding the door at bay and then used the one in his right to end him. Pushing the body out of the way, Ezio brought his heel up to smash through the door and swept into the room.

Flora stood against the far wall of the bedroom, Rosabella barely visible amidst her mother's skirts. Three men stood with their backs to the door, swords pointed toward the woman in the green dress. Flora was obviously not about to go down without a fight; she had already taken out one of the men and he lay sprawled on the ground, bleeding out through a deep wound in his side. In her right hand she held tightly onto a long-bladed dagger and her forest eyes burned dark with the wrath of a thousand thunder storms. Despite the situation Ezio could not help but grin. How had Maurizio ever managed to tame such a wild, fiery woman?

As soon as they heard the door crack open the guards turned to face him, ready to dispatch the threat. No ready enough; Ezio had taken out the first and was moving onto the second before they even knew what was happening. The Assassin used his left sword to keep the guard's away from him and then smashed the hilt of his right across his attacker's face. The man staggered backwards, yelling with the pain, when Ezio's sword drew across his neck. He fell forwards, face-down, into his own blood splattering across the floorboards.

Ezio turned to deal with the second guard but was surprised to find him already on the ground, a gaping wound in his stomach staining the carpet dark crimson. Flora stood over the body, chest and face spattered with the man's blood, hand still gripping the dagger so her knuckles burned white. A heavy silence filled the house, a silence that whispered all the things that did not need to be said. Very slowly, Flora turned to meet Ezio's gaze. The fire had been doused from her eyes by tears; tears that threatened to spill down over her cheeks and reveal just how afraid she had been.

"Ezio," she whispered, and dropped the blade from her hand. Letting his own clatter to the floor he rushed to sweep her up in his arms, and before long her head was buried in his shoulder, her tears were mingling with the blood soaked material of his robes. When she pulled away from him it was to comfort Rosabella, dashing over and lifting her daughter into her arms. When she turned back to Ezio fear once again danced in her eyes.

"And Saverio?" she breathed, taking a step toward him. "What of my son? Is he alright?"

"Last I saw he had taken to the streets of Firenze," Ezio replied, voice rough with concern.

"But he was alive?" Flora said, smiling slightly at the hope Saverio was indeed still breathing.

Before the Assassin had a chance to answer there was a cry from the lower level and the heavy pounding of feet upon the stairs. Flora's fair-haired son came charging down the corridor and into the room, tears streaming down his face as he searched the broken house for his mother. Flora slipped Rosabella to the floor and held her arms out in preparation for her son.

"_Madre_!" he cried, bursting into the bedroom, pushing past Ezio to crash into his mother's embrace. She held him tight; face nestled against the skin of his neck, lifting him gently up off the floor.

"My little boy," she murmured, laughing very softly into the fabric of his shirt. Looking up, her eyes met Ezio's and a wide smile spread her lips. "Thank you, Ezio Auditore. I can never pay you enough for what you have done for me this day."

"You need not," Ezio shook his head. "Just to see you reunited with your son is payment enough."

She inclined her head, attempting to restrain her amazing smile. At that moment Ezio suddenly remembered the necklace he had recovered from Duilio's body, and fished it out of his pocket to return it to Flora. As soon as he held it out to her she gasped and took it from his hand, placing her son back onto the ground to inspect the jewellery.

"Where did you find this?" she asked, glancing up at him.

"Duilio Carbone had it," he said, voice low. "The man who killed Maurizio."

She looked up sharply. "Is that what this is all about? Duilio Carbone…_si_, I seem to recall Maurizio mentioning him at some point. But why would he want to kill me? Is it not enough that he killed my husband?"

"Apparently not," Ezio sighed. "He was the brother of Pietro Carbone, a man who Maurizio had been contracted to kill. When he had completed the task Duilio was furious and sought revenge for his brother's death. He murdered Maurizio and then decided to come after you as well." Yanking down his hood, Ezio ran a hand through his hair and breathed out a heavy sigh. "But you need not worry about him any longer. He will not be bothering you and your family ever again."

Flora caught his meaning immediately. "I see. Thank you again, Ezio. I can never thank you enough." She slipped the bloodied silver necklace into the pocket of her dress and ruffled her son's hair. Both of her children clung to the material of her skirt, looking far less worried than before. Ezio smiled and slowly crossed the room to where the three stood, eyes locked with Flora's. He did not hesitate, he did not think twice. She did not resist, she did not even want to. In fact, she kissed him back as soon as his lips met hers. His fingers found the grooves of her neck, the soft skin of her jaw. Her right hand grasped the cold metal of his chest armour, while the other snuck up the side of his face to entwine in his hair. They were so lost in each other, in the taste of salty lips and blood spattered skin, that they were only roused by the small tug on Flora's dress.

"_Madre_?" Rosabella asked, peering up at the two. Flora detached herself quickly and bent down to answer her daughter, blushing slightly and out of breath from Ezio's kiss.

"_Si_, my darling," Flora smiled. "What do you need?"

"I am hungry," she said, and Flora laughed gently.

"I am sure if you asked nicely," her mother said, straightening up and meeting the Assassin's amused gaze, "_signore_ Ezio would find you some food. Would you not, Ezio?"

He chuckled and stole a kiss from her lips before sweeping from the room. "Whatever you desire, _signorina_ Rosabella, I shall not be a moment." And with those words he vanished out of the house and into the streets of Firenze. Flora stood, hands on hips, a content smile lighting her face.

"Ezio Auditore," she murmured under her breath, the smile still pulling at the corners her mouth. "How did I ever get by without you?"

By the time the sun was setting that evening most of the damage done to Flora's house had been cleared up and repaired. Ezio took care of the bodies of Duilio's guards and managed to make up a suitable meal for Rosabella and Saverio's dinner. Flora took care of the wounds Ezio had sustained while fighting Duilio and his men. Once the children were bundled off to bed, the carpet in Flora's bedroom was rolled up and stored down in the basement, while the broken splinters of wood from the front door were swept out onto the street. When darkness began to fall and stars appeared in the sky above, the house was back to normal and most of the events of the day forcefully forgotten. Ezio sat with Flora in her room, sipping wine by a warm fire. The flames burned lazily in the hearth, licking at the stone in which they were enclosed.

"Honestly, Ezio," Flora said, turning to look at him. Moonlight spilled through the open blinds, lighting her face in a milky glow. Her eyes glimmered in the shadows of the room. "I cannot thank you enough for what you have done."

Ezio smiled. "And I have told you that I do not require anything from you. You do not need to give me anything in return, Flora."

She chuckled softly. "Indeed, you keep telling me. But I feel I must do something for you, Ezio. You are sure that there is nothing that you want?"

"I am fine." He shook his head. "Your company is more than enough."

Eventually the wine glasses emptied, and a greyish tinge seeped into the horizon. Dawn was not long off, and heavy black clouds were beginning to gather in the once-clear sky. Morning blossomed wet and bleak; a light shower of rain drizzled from the heavens upon the rising residents of Firenze. Ezio blinked open his eyes, finding the gloomy sky outside the bedroom window, and the increasing amount of rain pouring down from it. Under the blankets he was warm and relaxed, and the world outside seemed so far away. It was funny to think he had not even planned the trip here, and had certainly spent a lot longer in Firenze than he had allowed himself in the first place. It was all Flora's fault; he blamed her entirely.

An image of her in the marketplace flashed across his memory. It was the day they had first met and she had stood with her basket of flowers amidst the mess of people going about their daily business. To think he had not even seen her when they had collided, and now she was the most important person in his life right now. He smiled to himself, and stretched out under the covers just to feel the fabric against his skin.

"What are you smiling about?" Flora's voice came from his right, where she was curled into the curve of his body. Her arm was flung across his chest, her cheek pressed to his side. When she spoke he felt her cool breath against his skin, felt a shiver of pleasure run down his spine at the sensation.

"Nothing," he said, turning his head so he came nose-to-nose with her. "Just that I had not even planned on coming here, and now…"

Flora chuckled and nuzzled closer to him. "Well, I am certainly glad that you did." He rolled over and wrapped his arms around her, smelling the flowery scent of her skin, the freshness of her hair. Leaning down, his lips grazed the bone of her jaw, the kisses becoming more substantial as they moved down the skin of her neck.

"I am glad that I did too," he murmured in response. Outside the window, the rain began to batter down on the streets and the roofs of the buildings, began to batter down on a fast-emptying marketplace. In the middle of the square a rose lay, bashed and wilting, but its petals still a brilliant crimson despite the rough way it had been treated. Half-sunken into the ground, it stayed a beautiful red until the relentless rain washed it away.

* * *

**A/N: Congrats! You reached the end of this ridiculously long AC FF! Thanks for making it here without getting bored halfway through, I hope I kept you entertained ;) ****Please leave a comment to let me know what you think, it would be much appreciated ^^**

******The rest of this stuff is story notes, or else I wouldn't have written it for you to read ;):**

**(This astericks from like 6,000 words ago)*Because throughout the course of Ezio's games he seems to be rather, shall we say indiscreet? about his connections. Anyone else notice this?**

**And yeah, I do realise the rose will have like totally wilted and stuff after like two weeks but I was using symmetry so…cut your crap, I'm not changing that.**

**Also, sorry if you didn't even notice or you don't mind. You can ignore the previous snappy statement then and have a smiley face as way of apology :)**


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